Purge, Revenge, Avenge
by Mymiriel
Summary: There is a darkness surrounding the major lands of Middle Earth 8 years after Sauron's demise. What is this new evil, and what does it want with the three hunters? CHAPTER 2 IS UP!
1. Senses

DISCLAIMER: Time for torture.I......don't....own....*sob* Legolas!!*breaks down into sobs* *pulls self together* Oh, yeah, and I don't own anything but my plot, unless you've seen it somewhere else, and Tolkien's characters and ideas are all his own. P.S: I gave Elledan and Elrohir brown hair and gray eyes like their father, so don't sue me if you're a fan of them.Thanks.  
Author's note: Elvish translations are at the end of the chapter,and um, happy reading!  
Rated R for future violence.  
  
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Legolas Greenleaf perched high in a tree in Mirkwood, fingering his bow and singing softly to himself in his native tongue. It was a sad elven song, one that clearly carried the grief and confusion of his heart through his gentle voice and onto the wind. The elf had chosen to sing this song, because he was sad and frustrated, plain and simple. Even though the war of the ring had been fought and won 8 years ago, Legolas felt uneasy about something great that was coming. He truly couldn't help feeling this way either. For three weeks he had had this feeling, and it was becoming stronger, more urgent, more prominent in his mind. At times it shadowed even his sea-longing. To Legolas it felt as though the very earth was screaming at him to do something.  
Legolas sighed and leaned into the tree, shutting his eyes tightly against the wave of emotion that washed over him. The tree. The tree was trying to convey its panic to him. Legolas could understand nature better than most, and he silently cursed this gift as the tree sent him its emotions. It was truly driving him mad, knowing something was wrong, yet not knowing what was happening to make anything feel this way. With a frustrated sigh, he dropped from the tree and landed in a crouch. Straightening and taking one last wistful look back at his usual place of solace, he turned and began to walk back to the halls of Thranduil, his home.  
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Elledan loosed the arrow, and watchied the flight of it, and then as it hit the leaf he was aiming for, about one hundred meters away. The arrow hadn't exactly hit dead center, though, and that bothered him. The elf sighed. He wasn't fully healed yet from an injury he had taken ownership of after a nasty fall on a hunting trip. He was healing fast with ll the speed of the elves and his father, Lord Elrond's treatments, but to him, not nearly fast enough. He silenced these thoughts with a shake of ghis head, and swung himself into the tree above him, leaping from branch to branch, following the path of his arrow.  
His keen eyes located it, and he went easily to the leaf and removed the arrow. As he did so, a chill raced up his spine, and he laced his bow and readied it with fast, graceful fingers. The smell of evil came to his heightened senses, and suddenly his body was completely still, tense and alert.  
"Yrch", he murmured to himself, slipping into his native tongue in the heat of the moment. His confused mind was failing to process everything. What were orcs doing so near to the borders of Rivendell? Unfortunately, the elf hadn't had much time to ponder such things, for five orcs clamored into the clearing he was perched over. Making a quick decision, he decided not to shoot, mainly because he didn't trust his faulty arm, and for lack or knowledge as to how many they were in sheer number. He decided to scout instead, and gather what information he could about this rare occurence. Elledan followed the orcs, stealthily creepong from tree to tree, all of his senses attuned perfectly to the world around him, keeping watch for any hidden dangers.  
Elledan had been following these orcs for about thirty minutes, and he was beginning to tire of it. Looking around, he suddenly realized that they had simply been traveling around the Rivendell, and from the elf's calculations, about ten miles outside of their borders. To him it seemed as if the orcs were patrolling or garding something. 'Guarding Rivendell'. The thought came to Elledan unbidden, and he surprised himself with it. This revelation only served to confuse him more. 'What reason would there be for that behavior? Mayhap someone or something was the cause of this'. His own last thought frightened him. What power could harness orcs and force them to walk so stealthily? The last time he had seen this they had worked at the hand of Sauron, the Dark lord himself. 'I must tell father!' That was one thing that was sure. He did need to tell the Lord of Rivendell if they wanted to squelch whatever new evi was beginning to take hold of his land. The elf turned away from his previous objective, and carfully began his return trip to Rivendell, taking care to avoid anymore orcs.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Arwen stepped up beside her love on the balcony of their chambers in her husband's kingdom. She followed his gaze to the serene beauty set before them and smiled a bittersweet smile. The White city truly was beautiful, even if it held none of the beauty of Imladris. Arwen couldn't help but compare sometimes, and this habit was only a testament to how much she truly missed her brothers and father. Sighing and pushing the thoughts out of her mind, she wrapped her arms around the one person who could make her forget. Aragorn returned the embrace as she rested her head upon his shoulder. Arwen could feel a strange tension in her love this eve, a tension that did not belong on his shoulders. Something was wrong with him. Normally, she might have been able to tell automatically what was wrong with her husband, but her elven abilities were fading because of the gift she had given up for him. She almost laughed out loud at the irony. Since her abilities were down, there was no better way to figure it out than by asking.  
"Milord", she said, " I can feel your tension. What ails you?" Aragorn placed his hands on the small soft ones wrapped abput his waist, feeling ultimately thankful for her love. He should have known it was never any use to try to hide anything from her. Arwen was anything but dumb to the world around her. He sighed, and his jaw tightened as his face turned grim.  
" I fear i cannot tell you that, milady. There is a feeling of darkness plauging me, one that seems to travel plainly on the air. Can you not feel it?" Arwen's hands tightened on her lover's as he leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes as if that would permit him to see this new threat. She could in fact, feel a shadow on the horizon, but she couldn' t tell whether it was imminent or leftover from Sauron's fall. The fact that Aragorn, a human, albeit one seasoned for this kind of thing, could feel it stirred fear in her heart. Her arms loosened slightly as she was lost to her own thoughts, and she sighed. Aragorn sensed the change in her, and turned in her arms, concern evident in every line and curve of his face.  
"Arwen?", he questioned, turning inquiring eyes to her face. Arwen sighed again and looked upat him. In her eyes was worry and even a bit of fear.  
" I too, have felt something." Arwen said, casting her eyes downward. "Something is...........out of place in this world, but I know not what. i can sense the shadow covering the evil, and that tells me it is not good, but imminent or leftover, i cannot say. it must be a great evil to be sensed by a human." Aragorn smiled. So there it was. The fear in her eyes had scared him, and now he knew the cause of it. If a human with no special senses could feel it, it had to be a great thing. Aragorn hooked his fingers under her chin, tilting her head so as to look into her eyes. He grinned amusedly at her.  
"By a human? My elven love", Aragorn teased, stretching the word elven to make it more prominent "you would dare to belittle my race?" It would have been a believable accusation, if not for the grin nearly covering his face and his mirth filled eyes. Arwen laughed, knowing that Aragorn was merely making an effort for her, to chase away her despair, and being grateful for it.  
"Now now, my human love", she retorted, flashing her own grin at him "humans belitle there own race simply by not being elves. Blind and deaf, you are." Aragorn stumbled dramatically and grasped his chest as though her words were a dagger to the heart. Arwen's silvery laugh floated on the air and joined with Aragorn's deep one as he swept her into his arms. Slowly that laughing died down, and Aragorn looked at the woman in his arms once more.  
*"N'dela no'ta, a'maelamin. Tel' dae nailvee' beleg vee' lye mela ar' alye lye na tait tulvanwa.", He murmured to her in the soothing tongue of the Sindar elves. Arwen smiled at him, and he saw the fear melt from her eyes and felt the tension melt from her body. There was still worry in her eyes, but it was still a step toward solace. They leaned forward and their lips met in a gentle kiss. The kiss was cut short by a curt knocking on the chamber door. The kiss was broken as Aragorn slipped out of her embrace and hurried to open it. The door swung to and revealed a soldier, one whom Aragorn recognized as a member of a hunting party that had set out this morn. There was a large cut on his forehead that was bleeding profusely. The crimson liquid was falling almost as fast as the tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face. As Aragorn looked him over, his natural healing instincts kicked in.  
"Come in, that cut needs to be cleaned." Aragorn said, stepping toward the man with an outstretched hand. The soldier didn't move, except for a small step back he took, as if her were afraid of being touched.  
"Nay my lord", the soldier explained himself "tis' but a minor wound, and how i came about it is the more important of the two" The soldier took a deep breath as Aragorn looked at his curiosly, as if he were preparing himself for his next words. "We are surrounded by orcs, my lord." Aragorn and Arwen stiffened and froze. ~~~~~~~~~~~  
Elledan bowed respectfully to his father in the throne room of Rivendell. Elrond merely waved his hand distractedly.  
"Come now, **amin hin, and save the formalities. Tell me what is wrong." Elledan looked at his father questioningly,wondering how he knew something was wrong. "i feel something is amiss in your aura, my son", Elrond explained to his son's curious gaze. Elledan sighed, as their current predicament was brought to mind.  
"Indeed your senses are finely tuned. Ill tidings I bring. I was on a practice archery course, attempting to return some strength to my arm again" Elrond merely nodded. He knew his son well enough to know that he was impatient when it came to healing. No one was as impatient as Aragorn, though.His son's voice brought his mind back tot the present. "As I retrieved my last arrow, I noticed the smell of orcs and felt the chill of evil." Elrond sat up straighter.  
"Orcs?"  
"Yes father. it cane into view as a small party,but they were being deliberately stealthy. I stayed my hand on my bow, and decided merely to scout because of lack of imformation and not trusting my arm. They aroused my suspicions, though, so I followed them, thinking perhaps they might lead me to something else. Yet it was strange........."Elledan trailed off, his eyes growing distant as he became lost in his own thoughts. Elrond watched his son until he couldn't wait anymore and had to ask.  
"Strange? How?" Elledan snapped out of his reverie and looked perplexed for a moment before answeing his father.  
"They seemed to be walking, circling ten miles outside of our borders. Twas' nothing my eyes have seen before, father. They were patrolling our land. Guarding Rivendell. I doubt anyone can be let out." Elrond's mind walked the same confused path his son's had walked some time ago in the forest. 'Guarding Rivendell?', he repeated in his mind. 'Why?' This time, it was Elrond's turn to be broken out of his thoughts by his son. " One more thing was strange.I did not realize there presence until they were nearly upon me. Perhaps it was because my mind was occupied, but I believe i still should have sensed them."Elrond frowned as his mind spiraled into despair. Elves relied on their senses more than almost anything to help them in times of danger. Being unable to sense evil was as debilitating as not haing any weapons or losing an arm. This couldn't be possible. At that moment, Elledan's brother Elrohir walked in. Elrond should have known that somehow his other son would be present. You rarely saw one without the other. Elledan merely glanced at his sibling before returning his gaze to his father and continuing." I did smell evil though. It seems the smell of evil cannot be stifled." Elrohir looked confused and alarmed at his brother's words.  
"What is going on here? He asked, looking from father to son with steely gray eyes that mirored his brother's. He was ignored.  
"Elledan, this is very serious indeed. If we cannot sense these creatures......."Elrond trailed off, knowing he did not need to finish the sentence to tell what could happen. His sons knew. His people would not be able to leave Rivendell with out a large group and heavily armed. They would be forced to live with caution of the strictest kind that would be new to them. it could very well turn into another version of southern Mirkwood. Elrond frowned as he recalled Legolas's home and the constant war they waged to keep the creatures of the dark of Dol Guldur from invading their lands. With the fall of Sauron, it had lessened somewhat, but it was still a struggle. As his thoughts turned to that forest, and idea clicked in his mind.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~ *The shadow is not as strong as our love and together we will overcome.  
**my child ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Click the review button please!! I know this chapter was a bit talky, but more Legolas and other characters along with some action next chapter, I promise!! I like reviews, by the way. Review!!! 


	2. Attack

DISCLAIMER: You know the drill. I obviously don't own anyone in this story. All I own is my computer. SUMMARY: See first chapter AN: Grumpy, thanks for the great review! Read on to chapter two and tell me what ya think  
  
Gimli, son of Gloin, lord of the glittering caves, sighed. He was currently traveling from his home to visit Legolas in Mirkwood. It was quite a journey from the Glittering caves to Mirkwood, but Gimli wasn't far from his destination now. Soon, in a few hours to be precise (according to Gimli's reckoning), he would be able to laugh and jest with his best friend again. If that wasn't an encouraging thought, to Gimli, nothing was. He smiled, his thoughts contradicting the previous ones that provoked the sigh. Gimli frowned as once again as his troublesome thoughts surfaced and brought themselves into focus.  
He was thinking of Legolas's father. King Thranduil was a stubborn person. Gimli smiled slightly as he thought ' that must be where the elf gets it from'. Unfortunately, very unlike his son and more like most elves, Thranduil still held strong to prejudices against dwarves, despite the fact that Legolas held one in much favor, going so far as to name Gimli *elvellon. Or perhaps because of it. Legolas had been somewhat alienated from his father all of his life, and their relationship was strained. The death of Legolas's mother had not exactly helped matters, because she was just about the only bond between them. Another frown flitted across his face as he thought of the pain Legolas must carry. He loved his father, yet was pushed away. His friendships with mortals certainly didn't help matters much. Legolas would never say it, but Gimli knew he was saddened, he could see it in his eyes every time they were laid on Thranduil. That made Gimli cherish his friendship all the more, knowing that it wasn't easy for Legolas to keep it, but going against everything to do it anyway.  
Suddenly the crackle of a twig snapped Gimli out of his thoughts. Not normally something to be truly alarmed about, but something hadn't felt right to Gimli since he entered the forest. He was a bit on edge. Gimli pulled Noran, his short brown dwarven horse up short. The horse's ears lay back, and it pranced nervously. If possible, Gimli felt even more nervous, and his eyes worriedly scanned the forest around him, every shadow seeming to be full of malice and bad intentions to his slightly anxious gaze. As it revealed nothing, Gimli laughed at himself for being so jittery, concluding that it was just a figment of his considerably tired mind, that he just needed some rest. Perhaps it was even one of those woodland creatures Legolas was so fond of. He shook his head and sighed again, falling back into his previous thoughts and coaxing his still apprehensive horse back into a smooth canter.  
  
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Legolas was once again perched precariously on a tree branch, and for once, the trees offered the solace that they used to. Suddenly that particular solace was cut short as the trees began to shriek at him. Never had Legolas heard them so clearly, and for the first time he could actually tell what was bothering them. Unfortunately, it definitely wasn't good news.  
**"Hin en' I' lasse' They called.*** "Hin en' I' orn, tel' naug cron na ed' saura cames...." Legolas quickly abandoned his previous position, whirling to place his hands against the tree, willing the ancient being to calm by clearing his own mind, even as he attempted to understand the trees through thehaze of his own alarm. The words 'Dwarf' and 'suffers' should never appear in the same sentence to Legolas. There was no doubt in his mind who the dwarf was the tree spoke of, as there was only one the trees would warn him of. The only one ever named elvellon by one of the firstborn with the gift of tree speech. Legolas forced his mind to calm and focused on the spirit inside of the deceivingly still being. One word was all they needed.  
****"Manke?" The trees once again began to communicate with the elf, albeit in a bit more calmer state. Their slight calm did nothing for the panic that was welling within Legolas's heart. Fear for Gimli bit at his mind with the stinging bite of a whip.  
*****"Nuin tel' orn en' nim, nuin tel' orn en' arnosta." Legolas was gone nearly before the tree was finished, not needing to hear the rest of the sentence to know where he was going. He had heard more than enough stories about his own birth from his father that it was fairly imprinted forever in his mind. Of course, that was before the rift between them grew. Now Thranduil never spoke of it, holding onto the fond memory of his wife as one holds to the hand of a dying love. Unfortunately for him, it was too late to physically do that.  
Now was not the time to have any thoughts of his father, and Legolas pushed them to the back of his mind as lithe, strong legs flew over roots and vines, light boots following a well known path. The spot was some 9 miles out of the borders of the main kingdom of Thranduil, and Legolas frequently went there to clear his mind. He felt closest to the calming presence of his mother there somehow, knowing that was where she first laid eyes on her son and named him after the leaves that hung overhead. Legolas swallowed his slight grief at the thought of his mother, and hardened his resolve. Pushing himself to run faster as a feeling of urgency raced through him unbidden, he pulled his bow from his back, and aimed all of his senses outward. Iluvitar help anyone who gave him something more to grieve for this day.  
  
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The hairs on the back of Gimli's neck prickled, and he thought he felt the sting of eyes on his back. He quickened his pace a little, nudging his horse to move faster. The horse was tired, so even moving as fast as it could go wasn't very fast at all. Just then, a low whistling sound was heard, and Gimli's thigh exploded in pain. He lurched forward from the force of it, and silently cursed his own memory as another whistling sound came and another explosion took place between his shoulder blades. After all of his dealings with Legolas, he should have known the sound of an arrow whistling through the air. These thoughts came from a scattered mind as Gimli pitched forward off of the horse, landing face first on the leaf strewn ground and rolling for a few feet before coming to a stop. He forced himself to his feet , and turned on unsteady legs to focus oddly swimming vision on his foe. His eyes widened slightly as he faced the odds, realizing the chances of him emerging from this fight whole. A dozen orcs, some with black-fletched arrows trained on him, others with scimitars and clubs in hand. Even as Gimli contemplated his fate, they attacked as one, the bow holders pulling swords from scabbards. Gimli felt very strangely sick, and shook his head to clear the fog that was settling on his mind, a sure sign unconsciousness was not far off. He wanted to welcome it, to get away from the burning pain of the two arrows in his body. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that. Not now. 'No matter' he thought, and hefted his axe, preparing to fight until the end. If they wanted to kill him, he certainly wouldn't go without a fight. He bitterly wished for his best friend at his side, knowing with him and his deadly accurate arrows there twelve orcs would seem like nothing, even with him weakend as he was.  
As the first orc neared him and prepared to strike, two white arrows suddenly came out of what seemed like thin air and embedded themselves in two of his foes, killing them on impact. Gimli turned, mildly confused, wondering why he had suddenly found himself in the crossfire. Unfortunately, that proved to be his undoing, as he didn't see the sword pommel swinging at his temple until it collided with it. Gimli stumbled, seeing stars race across his vision. Very soon after, the stars dimmed to nothing, and darkness overcame his consciousness.  
  
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Legolas came upon a scene that shook him to the core. He looked upon his best friend, who had two black arrows protruding from his body, one in his thigh, and one in his back, yet he was on his feet, seemingly despite the facte that he was poisoned, judging from the sickly pallor of his face and the way he swayed on his feet as though he would fall over any moment now. Gimli faced a dozen orcs with scimitars and swords in hand. Legolas knew that Gimli would have no chance of overcoming this, not in the shape he was in. He had little time to wonder at the gall of his friend , because the orcs decided to attack, Dashing at Gimli with their weapons raised. Acting quickly, he strung and released two arrows, each finding its target between the eyes of an orc, taking out two of the orcs automatically. Gimli froze for a moment, apparently confused. Unfortunately an orc saw this and took the opportunity to swing its sword hilt at Gimli's temple with devastating strength behind the attack. Legolas exclaimed in surprise and anger, Sapphire eyes filling with rage at the treatment of his friend. He flew into the fight to protect his friend, using his bow to take down three more orcs before they reached him, leaving him seven to fight. As they got to close for bow work, he abandoned them in favor of his knives. He spun beneath the wild yet strangely controlled swing of an orc and stabbed its comrade squarely in the heart. He didn't even look to see the body fall as he spun back around and planted the knives into the back of the previous orc's skull, leaping over his prone body to get at another, circling Gimli to keep him out of danger. His knives glinted with the small amount of sun that filtered through the treetops as the sun began its descent below the horizon.  
Legolas took down the first to last orc by way of thriwn dagger, then engaged in hand to weapon combat as he found himself with out a weapons. His quiver had been torn from his back along with his bow, and his daggers were planted in various bodies. He dived a high kick at the head of the orc he faced, then slipped it with a lightning fast move as it raised its sword to block the feigned kick. The orc went down, but swung its sword as it did so, leaving Legolas with a long gash from shouldher to forearm as a parting gift. The elf hardly registered the pain as he brought his boot down on the orc's neck with such force that he broke it.  
As soon as his enemy had been dispatched, he ran to the fallen Gimli, scooping his weapons into his arms and resheathing his knives as he went, noticing the night rolling in. It was just plain stupid to be caught in the forests of Mirkwood in the night without weapons. He dropped to his knees beside his friend, murmuring an elvish prayer as he hoped he hadn't been to late. He gently rolled Gimli onto his back, and released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as he saw that his friend was alive, albeit barely, but alive.  
"Oh Gimli," he murmured in sympathy as he quickly scanned his friend's hurts. Gimli was deathly pale, his breathing ragged and uneven. His forehead was clammy to the touch, and Legolas felt an unnatural heat radiating from him that could only mean a fever. It was as he thought. Gimli had been poisioned. Looking around, he realized that Gimli couldn't have gotten all this way alone, so he called for any horse in the area in Sindarin. Almost immediately, Noran ran up to him, whickering that the dwarf was hers. Legolas quickly assured her he meant no harm to her master as he lifeted Gimli onto her back. The horse seemed to understand that her master wasn't in the best of states at this time, and she stood perfectly still as Legolas hefted Gimli axe in his hands and placed it before him on the horse. At that time, a thought struck him, and he dashed back to the battlefield, and ran to a black arrow that had narrowly missed him and lay harmlessly on the ground. He scooped in up and noted the sticky black substance on the end of it as he ran back to horse, sticking it into his quiver. If the tip were poisoned, it wouldn't hurt to have a sample that wasn't mixed with Gimli's blood on hand. With a spoken word, he urged Noran into a full gallop, despite how tired she was. Judging from the way Gimli looked, he didn't have much time. Legolas ran beside the horse, and struggled to keep his friend in this world. "Hold on, elvellon. Please."  
  
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Legolas, Gimli and the gorse gained the gates of Mirkwood's stronghold in record time, and Legolas opened them with a muttered word. The trio were greeted by a few curious elves that Legolas brushed aside, lifting Gimli from the horse and bursting into the palace with him, calling for a healer. Two appeared from side doors, asking what was wrong. Legolas hurriedly explained the situation as he brang Gimli to the room that branched off of his, the one he normally occupied while staying in Mirkwood. He laid his friend upon the soft linens and pulled the black arrow from his quiver.  
"I think it's poisoned. He fainted and feels feverish to the touch", he concluded, passing it to Salile, one of the healers. She raised it to eye level and examined the point.  
"Certainly orc poison."She frowned. "But it's from Mordor or Isengard." Shock registered on Legolas's face at these words. Isengard had been destroyed by the Ents, and Mordir was also no more. His thoughts were shattered as Salile spoke again. "We must act quickly to save him." She summoned more healers to the scene, who set about reoving Gimli's clothing and taking the arrows out. A healer grasped Legolas's arm and pulled him to the side firmly but gently.  
"That cut on your arm needs to be taken care of, my lord." He explained as he pulled various bandages from a pouch on his hip. Legolas's mind hardly registered any of this as he watched them working feverishly over his friend, his eyes never leaving Gimli's pale countenance.  
  
*elf-friend  
  
**Child of the leaf  
  
***Child of the trees, the dwarf is harmed by foul hands.  
  
****Where?  
  
*****Beneath the tree of white, beneath the tree of royal birth  
  
There goes another chapter for you!! Hey, I really wanna know what you guys think!! If you really like this story, you better review, or you will never get anymore! C'mon! It doesn't take that long!!! 


	3. Debates

DISCLAIMER: Tolkien owns everything except any characters you've never seen in the books and my plot line. ...duh. SUMMARY: See chapter one  
  
Aragorn did a bit of a double take as his mind worked feverishly to process exactly what the soldier in front of him had just said. It wasn't possible. How could they be surrounded by orcs? Using a considerable amount of strength, he steeled the panic rising in his heart and collected himself until he was the perfect picture of the King Elessar.  
"Surely you jest", he said, even though he was fully aware that this particular soldier was serious about everything. "Or perhaps you are mistaken. There can be no orcs here." The soldier finally raised his eyes from the ground at these words and looked at his king. Aragorn mentally kicked himself, for it seemed as though the doubt coloring his words had hurt the soldier to some extent. The soldier's mouth twisted into a frown. For once in his life, Aragorn was looked at by one of his subjects as though he had grown another head.  
"Nay, my lord. I would not jest of this matter", he said in slight disbelief. Why would the king think he was joking about a matter like this? Arwen lightly touched the man on the arm and guided him over to a chair.  
"Please, sit." She said in her quiet melodic voice as she swept over to a cupboard to gather bandages for the cut on his head. The soldier and Aragorn could hear her humming across the room, and they both found themselves suddenly drained of all panic. Aragorn came to stand in front of the soldier and pierced him with a steady, concerned gaze.  
"Tell me everything", he said, hands clasped firmly behind him. The soldier looked slightly nervous when faced with the regal form of Aragorn, but he hesitated only a moment before twisting his hands in his lap and beginning his tale.  
"We left for the trip this morning, nine of us, as you know." He paused to wince as Arwen applied a salve that stung to his head, looking apologetic. He continued at Aragorn's nod. "All was well until we reached about ten miles or so out. We met with orcs in large number. A group of at least forty spotted us as we crested a ridge overlooking the river Anorien where it crosses over the Mering stream." Aragorn nodded, he knew this meant that they were about ten miles out of Minas Tirith when they crested this ridge. He had traveled that way himself many times. The soldier continued. "They began firing on us almost immediately. There wasn't even time enough to turn the horses back. Two of our company fell at the foul points, as the rest of us were ambushed." Both Aragorn and Arwen could hear the rising emotion in his voice, and it pained him deeply to watch said emotions flit across his face. "There were too many!! Their numbers overtook us. I knew, as did the rest of the company, that someone had to survive and tell the king. Somehow I fought my way out, receiving only this wound," he said, indicating the wound Arwen was working diligently on bandaging. "As.as far as I could see, everyone around me was dying or already dead. The soldier's eyes filled with tears at the memory of something unknown to all save him. "In that moment," he murmured, sounding like a man confessing his sins. A man seeking reparation. "I became a coward, sire. I ran. I should have stayed, I could've helped." Aragorn could finally take no more and silenced the distraught man with gentle hand on the soldier and softly spoken words.  
"You did all you could. You were right to run. Minas Tirith owes you much, for if you had stayed to die, news of the peril you speak of would never have reached us. It could have been let free to overrun our lands while we idle unaware. Be at peace, my friend." Aragorn wanted to ask him more about what it was he saw, because his story had not indicated them being surrounded. After taking a long look at the man before him, though, he knew he could ask no more of him this day. 'You have been through much. Rest now, and this matter will be discussed more fully later. You have done well." The words of his king seemed to assure the man more than anything else ever could. His eyes shone gratefully, silently thanking his king for helping him. He pushed himself to his feet and nodded.  
"Thank you, milord." Aragorn nodded, clearly understanding that the word meant more than what was openly seen. The soldier turned to Arwen and thanked her for her care, then left. The door clicked shut behind him and Aragorn sighed.  
"T'was ill tidings we just received, my love," Arwen murmured from just beside the chair recently vacated by the soldier. Aragorn gave a slightly startled jump, having forgotten the elf had been standing beside the chair the entire time. Her silvery laugh floated on the air, and she moved toward him on silent feet and impulsively wrapped her arms around him, knowing how troubled he would have to be to forget that she was in the room. Her voice glided into his ear, soothing him as much as her closeness. "This may be our last embrace for some time, my dear, if this talk of peril rings true." Aragorn wrapped his arms around her waist and placed his face in her hair, breathing in her scent of lavender from her gardens and the natural smell of trees all elves seemed to possess. The hugged her tightly to him, knowing just how truthful and foreboding her words could be.  
  
*******  
  
The creature faced another of his minions, listening reluctantly with barely contained impatience to it's speech. It gazed at its servant, bloodlust twinkling darkly within the depths of it's eyes. The only reason the foolish orc was still alive was because this report was very important to his plans. Very important. "...the dwarf received grave injury..." The creature was only catching bits and pieces of the orc's words, not particularly caring about anything but whether or not this part of the plan had succeeded. One part definitely caught its attention. "...elf saved it..attacked eight humans of Gondor.the ninth escaped..battle ---- " the creature interrupted the orc sharply.  
"One .escaped?" The orc looked slightly taken aback, as this was the only time he had seen his master display an emotion other than strong anger. It was obvious that the information that has just been relayed to the creature had disturbed it greatly. Slowly fear began to build within the orc, for the reaction of it's master told him that something had certainly gone horribly wrong. "Explain." The creature commanded bitingly in a booming, murderous voice that spoke volumes of thinly veiled rage, rising from its dark throne. His minion took an involuntary step back as the pure evil radiating off of the creature felt foul even to something as tainted as the orc itself. The orc forced its throat to work and forced its tongue to form words around the block of fear that seemed to have lodged itself in his windpipe.  
"There were------nine, m-m---my lord. When the dead were counted, only eight wer---were-erm---uh--..present." The creature did not move, but the orc stumbled backward as the creature's cold, finally uncontained fury seemed to pull the room beneath its icy thrall. Any warmth that may have been clinging to the walls or the corners was quickly and effectively banished in the span of a few seconds. With a voice dripping obvious disdain and annoyance, it spoke, raising a hand and pointing an accusing finger.  
"You failed me." It was slightly amusing how a sentence so simple could affect the gofer cowering before the creature. He seemed to visibly shrink, even though the orc's feet stayed pinned to the floor where it stood.  
"M-my --my lord, please", the orc pleaded, its voice taking on a pitiful tone. "please sire, it can be fi-" One again, the orc was cut off abruptly.  
"'It can be' NOTHING. I appointed this task to you. YOUR GROUP." The orc cowered even lower, if that were actually possible, in the face of this storm. "I DO NOT TOLERATE FAILURE." As it spoke these words that held such a warning for the poor minion, the creature began to change. Silver eyes flashed brightly with white for a moment, then abruptly changed to red, tiny yellow pupils glinting maliciously. Claws sprouted in place of fingernails, teeth elongated into fangs, and the darkness already dominating the room drew closer to it, causing nearly all light to flee. The reason the creature had no name was now revealed. It had no soul, no true form, and just true emotions. Right now that emotions was distaste and rage. The orc turned to desperate pleading.  
"Please my lord, please. It will not happen again---"  
"I know", the creature interrupted in a guttural hiss of a voice. "it will not happen again, make no mistake." Faster than the eye could follow, the creature went from feet away to no more than three inches before the orc. In one fluid motion, the claws of the creature were embedded deeply in the orc's abdomen, causing the orc to writhe and squeal with pain, as skin, muscle, and even bone were broken. The creature lifted its minion into the air, and the cries of the orc reached a new level as all of it's weight was placed on the horrible wounds dealt to its abdomen. The sound was horribly grating on the ears, high pitched and pitiful. The creature bared its fangs, and the cries of the orc were cruelly and abruptly squelched as the fangs sunk into the skin of the orcs neck and the creature ripped the head from the orc's body. Blood poured from the site of the creature's wrath, dripping to the floor and dying the stone a sickening blue- black. The now lifeless body thudded to the floor as the creature ripped its claws from it. A feral grin without the slightest hint of mirth passed across the creature's face as it envisioned the orc's body being the body of another. Three others, in fact.  
  
**********  
  
Legolas raised his head form its near permanent perch on Gimli's bed. The two arrows that had taken residence in his friend's body had, unfortunately, been tipped with poison. The blade hilt that had been swung with vicious force at his temple hadn't exactly helped matters either. For two days Mirkwood's healers had worked feverishly over Gimli's prone form, trying at least a hundred and one different remedies to pull the unknown morgul toxin from his system. Gimli was stabilized now, but he had yet to open his eyes. The dwarf had done so only once, in a feverish haze. His eyes had flickered open as he fought demons made known only to him, and the healers had fought a much more physically real battle to keep him from aggravating his wounds and hurting himself more. Legolas had been unable to help due to his bandaged arm, and it hurt worse than thousands of the sharpest knives to see his friend writhing in pain and fear and unable to do something for him. It had brought on a feeling of helplessness the seasoned warrior wasn't used to feeling. The elf balanced his chin on his one uninjured arm. His lithe frame was wracked with confusion as questions swirled in his mind. The orc that had attacked Gimli had been mere yards from his location. Why couldn't he sense them? The only thing that had saved them both from peril was that he felt his friend in distress, as opposed to the evil in the forest. An even more pressing matter: What were those foul former servants of Sauron doing so close to Mirkwood, attacking dwarves? If these unanswerable questions weren't enough, the mystery surrounding the strange poison cleared that problem. How a bunch of orcs could have possibly gotten a potion of such magnitude to almost kill a dwarf in hours and was older than him was a complete mystery. Another interesting and puzzling angle was the origin of the toxin. The healers had confirmed that it came from Dol Guldur. Did this mean that the area was still being used? Legolas pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, unsuccessfully trying to ward off a headache. He snapped back into reality with a jolt, straightening as he heard the unmistakable sound of someone walking up the hall towards the room. His mind processed whom it was moments before a knock sounded on the door. Legolas stood from the chair by Gimli's bedside and crossed the room to open it. The door swung open to reveal a slightly rushed looking Thranduil. Legolas suddenly realized he hadn't seen his father at all fr the two days that he had been there. Gimli's problems had taken up everything in his mind at the time, and he had simply forgotten. Although he guessed it could go both ways, seeing as how his father must have heard that he was in the castle, but Thranduil had never sought him out himself. Legolas forced a frown to keep from showing as the thought that maybe he just wanted to see Gimli with almost no sense of dignity, lying in a bed half clothed and unconscious. The elf hoped his father wasn't that conniving, but he could see how seeing the dwarf like this might give him some satisfaction. Besides, if Gimli found out the man who had imprisoned his father had seen him like this, Legolas's life might be forfeit. Stepping outside and closing the door behind him as opposed to inviting his father inside, Legolas faced his father, raising a questioning eyebrow. His father had a strained smile on his face that seemed frozen to Legolas. Blue eyes met, and finally Thranduil broke the silence. "I just heard you have been here for two days now, my son. " Legolas blanched a bit at that, his hope that maybe his father wouldn't bring that up now dead. "I heard about the dwarf", Thranduil said, spitting the last two words of his sentence as though they were vile toxins. Legolas unconsciously went on the defensive as Thranduil continued. "What mess did he get you into this time?" The sapphire eyes of the younger elf flashed in anger. When he spoke his melodious voice was tight with annoyance.  
"Gimli had nothing to do with what happened, father. He never does." The last part of Legolas's words had been spoken in remembrance of other times when his father had attempted to blame his dwarven friend for mishaps in the past. The elf was getting tired of defending his friend's honor to his father's harsh words. Gimli was a good person, and an honorable friend. If Thranduil would just see that...but no. Thranduil didn't want to see it, and Legolas knew that.  
"So tending to the mortal for two days had your hands so full, you couldn't visit your father? You know I needed you to help me with those warriors." Legolas really didn't particularly care about that, and he certainly hadn't cared about it two days ago. To be entirely truthful, that was one of the reasons he had left the palace in the first place. He was tired of the duties that Thranduil had been shirking on him to simply keep him around. The king certainly didn't need Legolas to review the new warriors for the southern patrol. It was just an excuse to place more fault on his relationships with mortals. Legolas forced concern and sincerity to an otherwise blank face. Lying was something he resented doing, but he used what skills he had when he had to. He liked to think his diplomatic blood enabled him with such valuable qualities.  
"I'm very sorry about that, father, but the healers thought I should stay to.um.." 'Ok', he thought, 'maybe lying isn't one of your strong points.' "To be a familiar voice..erm.presence..when he came around.", Legolas conceded, smiling in what he hoped was a convincing and not triumphant manner. Unfortunately, Thranduil missed his glorious accomplishment of a lie. Somehow, his father had caught sight of the bandages wrapped around his injured arm.  
"What happened there?" he said, indicating the bandaged extremity. Legolas glanced at it, and his stomach clenched in foreboding of trouble to come. Fantastic. His father had just discovered another reason to bother Gimli. Saving him had gotten his son hurt.  
"Um, I was grazed. Nothing dangerous." Thranduil harrumphed.  
  
"At this speed the naugrim* will kill you before you even have a chance to sail for Valinor." Legolas frowned. This was a very sore topic for them, Thranduil's distaste of mortals putting strain upon it. Unfortunately, the frown was not lost on his father. "Of course, perhaps you won't go anyway.", he murmured, glancing contemptuously past his son at the door of the room that housed Gimli. Legolas saw the look and anger and extreme sadness began to war in his heart. He wondered if his father could see how much attempting to force him to chose was hurting him. He knew his father loved him very much and only wanted his son in the Undying Lands by his side, but he also knew that Thranduil was aware of his ties here. At times he was much too aware of those ties. Times such as these.  
"Father.." Thranduil focused angry eyes on his son. Legolas could also detect sadness in his gaze that mirrored his own.  
"You would choose a mortal over your own blood?" Legolas was taken aback by the question his father threw at him, almost making it sound as though his father thought him a traitor. He was hurt, confused, and irked even more by those words.  
"I made promises father. I fully intend to keep them!! I am tied here. I cannot leave, not yet. I will not leave."  
"Tied to what? A dwarf and a man? Your 'promises' were made in a show of foolishness. They will die and you will be here, alone. Your fate will mirror that of the Evenstar." Legolas's eyes widened, the hurt he was feeling now perfectly apparent upon his chiseled features. They both fell silent, Legolas staring at his father in shock, and his father looking back at him with anger and an almost desperate sort of longing. Suddenly Legolas's gaze hardened into one of defiance.  
"I will not part yet, father." The elf spoke the words with such finality it seemed as though not only the conversation, but the entire matter itself were closed, though both elves knew it was not. Without another word, Legolas turned and reentered Gimli's room, closing the door behind him on the shocked and angry visage of King Thranduil with a snap.  
  
*naugrim- Dwarf. I think it's in the non-respectable terms.  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. There weren't many, but you guys definitely helped my muse wring this chapter out of me! ^_^  
  
P.S..Many thanks to Niani, who pointed out that little mistake on Elladan's name. I honestly hadn't noticed. Thanks a bunch!  
  
Ok, now click the little review button and tell me what ya think about this one! 


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